Numbers Don't Lie
by Allthequirkythings
Summary: "...And looked at her, examined her, stared through his strangely closed eyes, then pulled out a little leather-bound notebook and wrote in it. Mari broke out in sweat. Was this a sort of telepathic test or something? Did he have ESP?" RenjixOC
1. Meeting Mari

"_There's a history through her_

_Sent to us as a gift from the future, to show us the proof_

_More than that, it's to dare us to move_

_And to open our eyes and to learn from the sky."_

* * *

Numbers never lied.

That was Renji Yanagi's favorite thing about them. There was no such thing as deception, or guilt, or any hint of falsehood: if the numbers came out wrong, they were your fault, and if you thought they were wrong because you wanted them to be, they didn't change either way. Numbers were fair, and honest, and always right.

So, naturally, things like strong emotion just didn't make sense to him.

It wasn't practical. It wasn't quantitative, or fair, or honest. Things that couldn't be described with a few digits or a percentage were simply unworthy of his time.

It wasn't that he was some sort of devoid cyborg: Renji simply felt no need to examine that qualitative world when numbers were so much more concrete. He didn't need to be outspoken. Not many people recognized many things he said anyway, so he kept things to himself. Only maybe Inui Sadaharu was the one who slightly understood, but even that was to an extent. Digits and quantities weren't just data to Renji: they were truth.

The world was finely sketched in black and white, and all the lines curled into numbers.

* * *

"I don't know, Niou, I-I really don't think this is right-"

"Sure it is. I've been to Rikkai-what? Three years now? I'm positive. Now off you go."

"But, I really don't think this is the girls' bathroom. There's a man's sign..."

"Didn't you hear? It's drag year."

"Oh...wait-drag year?"

Niou pushed Mari into the door, knocking both over. Mari stumbled into the silent room, landing on her hands and knees with an "oomph". _Geez, _she thought, brushing herself off. _He didn't need to push me; I can walk by myself to the bathroom, thank you very much...who leaves their shirt on the floor- _her heart froze. Footsteps and a pair of sneakers stopped right in front of her. Two legs, black shorts, and a pair of familiar violet diamond eyes peered at her curiously under a mop of red hair.

Uh oh. This wasn't the girl's restroom.

Oh, and by the way, the mystery of whose shirt was on the floor was solved.

Mari clapped a hand onto her eyes.

_Oh my, did you see that? His shirt was off, his shirt was off, his shirt was off..._

"I-I-I was just looking for the bathroom." Mari scrambled to her feet and groped for the handle behind her- _where was the blasted handle?_ She yanked the knob enough to twist it off and ran out-then wondered why it was so dark.

The door clicked closed behind her. Dimly, she saw a mop bucket laying at her feet. As her eyes adjusted from the crack of light under the door, her horror rose. Buckets upon buckets of tennis balls lined a whole shelf while the others held baskets of plasters, tennis rackets, strings, duct-tape, first-aid supplies, rolls of grip tape, and piles of fresh towels.

Great.

She'd just shut herself in a_ supply closet_.

Mari felt like crying. Why was her luck so bad? Curse Niou. Curse herself. Curse bathrooms everywhere and changing rooms and German. She plopped herself down on the step ladder, wondering how on earth her day got off to such an awful finish.

* * *

"Rikkaidai is always eager to take in new students," the lady smiled all-too-eagerly through red lips. "Our curriculum is slightly advanced, but we've reviewed your record and all seems to be in order for you to begin your third year. Now, this is your classroom; your teachers will change rooms each day, so you will not be leaving the room save breaks and lunchtime. Now, I'll introduce you to Kawamura-sensei, and we'll get you settled in."

Mari nodded politely.

While the secretary talked in a hushed voice to the teacher, Mari tried her best not to shiver. These Rikkaidai kids creeped her out. They stared at her openly, unashamed of hiding that they were judging her. She was in uniform and understood this was their home-turf. Nothing good would come from her initiating a stare-down with thirty-two students on her first day.

So instead she examined her plaid skirt and silently hated on tweed until the secretary exited, and the sensei seated her near the back of the classroom between four girls.

Mari squinted her eyes at Kawamura-sensei.

This was to make her feel more comfortable, wasn't it? This was so if little Mari got scared she'd just turn to one of her girlfriends, wasn't it? This was because poor Mari was dependent on other people so much that she just couldn't manage ten seconds on her own, wasn't it?

Kawamura-sensei glanced up from her papers, caught Mari's creased eyes, frowned, and gestured her over.

_Oh, shoot,_ Mari paled.

She approached as the teacher rummaged under her desk for something.

_Uh oh. Do they really hit people with rulers for misbehaving? Or will she make me go sit seiza in the hallway for two hours? I thought that was a joke._

Instead, however, there was no ruler or order to sit in the corridor; sensei thumped a pile of textbooks into Mari's arms. "These are yours now. Take care of them and leave them at home until the end of the year: we have enough extras for a class set."

She put her elbows onto her desk and turned her steely eyes on Mari in a sure-fire 'serious talk' look.

"I'm not particularly concerned in any core subjects except for German and Japanese history, for obvious reasons...would you feel alright with me appointing you a student tutor?"

_No, it was not alright. _She would _never _work with a tutor. No Japanese stranger was going to start telling her what to do and making her do things. Mari would figure it out how she always did. _By herself._

But, of course, it really didn't matter what she thought, so she nodded politely.

Kawamura-sensei nodded. "Renji-kun, come here for a moment would you, please?"

A boy with short-cropped brown hair padded obediently and bowed.

"I'm concerned for our new student's progress in a few subjects," sensei started, "specifically German and Japanese history. Would you be willing to help tutor her? You hardly need it, but I'm willing to add five points of extra credit every percentage digit Mari increases above an 85% on quizzes and tests."

Mari didn't like how she talked like she wasn't even there.

Renji gave a short nod. "Of course, however I have tennis practice before and after school every day-"

Sensei smiled, and Mari thought she looked almost proud. "I am aware. Congratulations on your latest victory. As you well know, however, you have some of the highest grades in the class, and with your past experience-"

"I don't need a tutor," Mari cut in. "Self-studying was how I learned Japanese." Kawamura-sensei's sharp eyes sliced through her, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Duly noted, though it's hardly your personal preference," her voice froze over, "Hikari-san."

Mari quickly sealed her lips. "Yes, sensei."

"Great. Then it's settled. You're both dismissed." Mari turned to leave. "Oh, and Hikari-san?"

"Yes, sensei?"

"Are your eyes alright? You seem to squint an awful lot."

* * *

Mari was used to being by herself. It made her self-sufficient and strong, she had figured. Relying on others was just...not..._helpful_. It just stretched her out thin, more liable to fall through in more places. Being lonely-no, _individual_ helped her get a head-start in life. She still knew people, maybe in the wrong way, though. Mari noticed more than people gave her credit for, mostly in the time she spent by herself, tucked away.

Some people she was glad she didn't affiliate herself with.

Others, not so much.

* * *

Renji wasn't sure what to think of her.

He'd started a new page in class about the New Girl, as he'd done countless times before: Hikari Mari was her name. _Rather unfortunate_, he mused. According to her files, she was fourteen and skipped seventh and eighth grade. _That explained a lot, _Renji thought, watching her at lunch sitting alone in a corner. _Antisocial, skipping most of the crucial interpersonal growth years in adolescence. _

She had a strange look in her eye, though. Every once in a while she'd glance up and around then look down again: it wasn't a shy habit like he thought for a little while...her gaze was too abrupt, too calculating to be coincidental. Renji stared at his untouched bento, troubled.

Mari had the eyes he didn't usually show.

Of course, tutoring her would be a completely other matter. He'd tutored many times before, him being a Dean's List student, dependable, efficient and all, but she didn't seem like one to favor help, especially not for school, and _especially _not from a stranger.

He pulled out his notebook and flipped to the right heading, jotting down a few extra notes before the next class began.

* * *

**Who likes the song at the beginning? Credits to Sara Bareilles- "Chasing the Sun" **

**Please review if you liked it and still do if you don't!**


	2. Chapter 2

Mari walked back to her classroom with her lunch tray and went over her mental list for survival.

Rule number one: no one liked people who imposed themselves.

Rule number two: partner activities were exceptions to rule number one because A.) sometimes being stuck in a group of three was worse than being by yourself, or B.) sometimes being stuck in a group of three was worse than being stuck with the other last kid in the class: there was probably a reason they were not already taken.

Rule number three: keep to yourself unless A.) someone is being physically assaulted, or B.) you are specifically named and they will drag you over there screaming and kicking until someone lost a finger or a tooth. Or both.

Rule number four: never, ever, _ever _mess with the alpha. It was like playing Janga with one block left at the bottom: if you're not careful, everything tumbles down and hits you on the face.

Mari lived by her rules. They made her strong. And after weakness like..._that thing_, her rules of self-preservation kept her alive more than anything else.

* * *

The end of lunch found her in a corner of the classroom, sharing crumbs with the tiny dust bunnies. A gaggle of girls had taken over her plus sign: judging by the way their skirts were pinned higher and how they kept stealing glances at a group of boys in another pod, she figured they were a one-way permeation ring: they let you in, but after that, there was no way out again.

Mari could guess who was the ring leader: tall, willowy, black hair in a simple twist, and features perfect like a fairy's. The name embroidered in silver on her designer bag was Inoue Tani. She threw her head back to laugh, and Mari watched everyone turn to secretly look as her neck arched back and eyes creased gently until stunning cyan eyes disappeared onto long lashes.

_I will definitely stay away from her, _Mari grimly assured herself.

* * *

Classes were hardly interesting: Mari had a read on most of the classes in her schedule. _At least now I'm only a year younger than everyone else,_ she speculated. _No one can tell. _

And they couldn't: she was tall enough (by Japanese standards) for a 14-year-old girl. Most of her curves were left unfilled, but she was slim up and down, giving her a strange kind of innocent charm. Or, as Mari personally thought, made her look like a particularly skinny chopstick.

Though here at Rikkai, skinny lost meaning fast. In fact, everything here seemed to be drastically modified into the upmost extremes.

If she thought she was slim, the girl who sat diagonal from her was anorexia thin. If she thought her Japanese was decent, the boy to her right was an expert. If she considered her eyes pretty, the boy next to her had giant, bright violet diamonds where pupils should be.

Everything seemed dialed up to the highest calibration: even personalities seemed pointed towards one general direction. Mari felt like such a Mary-Sue around everyone else, but she still wondered whether that was a good or a bad thing.

All she could think was: _Rikkai-people are abnormal_.

* * *

Mari was an expert on keeping out of other people's business. She could fend for herself: that was the real basis behind her four rules. Depending on others made her less strong. Her favorite kinds of people left her alone.

However, this simply wasn't possible with Renji Yanagi.

It started when he knocked, two quick, sharp knocks in succession.

And looked at her, examined her, stared through his strangely closed eyes, then pulled out a little leather-bound notebook and wrote in it. Mari broke out in sweat. Was this a sort of telepathic test or something? Did he have ESP?

Besides his strange need to write everything down, the first part of tutoring was fine: they met at the library after class and occupied an empty study room. He read by himself for a while, marking the chapter in both her textbooks where the class was presently, allowing her time to flip through and read. She liked that: he would let her read and figure things out by herself- but there really wasn't much to figure out.

Japanese history was a breeze: the first three chapters passed with her acing every test question Renji asked her.

"What was the capital of Japan in 784?"

"Nagaoka."

A few more questions passed in a breeze, and Mari was feeling pretty confident.

"Correct. We'll try German."

And that's when Mari developed resentment towards Renji, tutors, Kawamura-sensei, and above all, _Deutsch_.

"What is the personal pronoun form of the noun 'Bleistift'?"

"Um is it...'das'?"

"Think about it." Silence. "'Der.'"

"Oh."

"Next: what is the correct conjugation of the 'wir' form of 'gehen'?"

"...'Geht'?"

"'_Gehen_.'"

"Oh."

* * *

Every once in a while between questions he'd slip out the notebook again and jot something down; Mari would peer over her textbook and focus on the small writing, but by the time her eyes focused, he'd snap the book closed, look up at her, have her promptly stare back at all the letters on the page, and he'd shoot her another few practice problems.

And repeat.

She missed nearly every question. No matter how much staring or mouthing or writing each word or definition or gender or conjugation, nothing stuck. It didn't sit well with Mari: she could learn everything-_anything_-just by looking and studying.

It wasn't just the weird rules or foreign enunciation on her tongue: Mari simply could not line everything up together. She was a neat, linear-thinking, checklist-type girl, and it usually served her well. Her teachers called her efficient and exceptionally organized. In this situation, however, she couldn't just plain match definitions to string sentences together: German had completely different grammar patterns and sentence structures.

_Am I going to die like this? Reviewing European grammar with a stranger in a library? _Unbeknownst to her, Renji was calculating the exact same thing.

* * *

There wasn't a real clock in the room, and Mari wasn't going to ask Renji for the time because that was a direct violation of rule number three...plus it would make her seem like a quitter. And Hikari Mari was no quitter. She'd stuck with that name for fifteen years, hadn't she?

"What is one of the personal pronouns with the verb form of 'sehen'?"

_Ooh, I just read that...page 26...great, that's what I remember..._

"'Sie'?" It was more like a hopeful suggestion than an answer.

Renji's face was in the same neutral expression. For a second, Mari had hope.

"Elaborate."

She blanked and wondered why, _why_ couldn't he have just given her this _one _question, just to give her that one little _scrap_ of self-worth she still desperately clung onto?

Silence.

"It's a capital 'S'."

Of course it was. _Well, I'll show you where that capital 'S' is, how do you like that, eh? _

Her face contorted.

_Rule number three...rule number three..._

"Oh."

* * *

**I really didn't know where I was going to go with this...**

**Oh, well! **

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

It would be an invasion of privacy. It would be a violation. It would be totally rude and...she was already dropping her textbooks back on the desk to pick it up. It was fairly new, though the leather was soft and pliable at the spine. Mari flipped to a recent page and made a face.

**Hikari Mari**

My, was _this _what he was writing?

**Third year**

** 160 cm. 45 kg. **

Mari was startled (and, honestly a bit scared). Even _she _wasn't sure how much she weighed-until now. So how did he?

**Eyes: green**

**Hair: brown**

**Body build: weak**

She got over the whole stalker-page-thing and scowled at his lack of embellishment. Personally, she thought her eyes were a cool-green sort of color. Her hair was coffee bean with streaks of copper cropped thin at her shoulders.

Her body build...well, no argument there: she was pretty weak.

Mari flipped forwards. He had her schedule, her hobbies, even her personality traits (soft-spoken, stubborn, self-efficient...really!). He only knew her a day. These were not things he could find out in a day. Honestly, it freaked her out quite a bit (what was _with _these Rikkai-people?!).

Her heart thumped in her ears when she saw a new heading:

**Family. **

If anything came out...

**Unknown. **

Mari let out a deep breath of relief. _Thank God... _

A tiny side note was scrawled at the bottom of the page.

**German assessment grade: 90.4% chance of 88%. **

Her first thought was bewilderment. Her German assessment was going to be the midterm just like the other was taking place before winter break. How could he predict that?

Her second thought was indignant. He thought she'd get a _B_ plus? Hikari Mari was going to _ace _this midterm and put his words right up in his own face. That grade chart on the back of the classroom was going to have her name right at the top, thank _you _very much.

Mari flipped through from the beginning: an array of names she didn't know. There was one, however: **Murai Bunta**. Her finger posed to push the book open to the page, but hesitated before grimly closing the book.

She put it where it was on the floor before hesitating and placing it on the table.

As she left, Mari wasn't completely sure what she was trying to say by doing that: just acknowledging the fact that she was there, or telling him she wasn't judging him.

Or maybe it was her way of saying, "I read my page. Now where's yours?"

* * *

"Oh my god, did you hear? Last week, that new girl, like, totally went into the boys' locker rooms at tennis practice: god, what a slut."

"Who'd you hear?"

"Inoue Tani. And from what _I'd_ last heard, she was out for blood."

* * *

"Remember, the feminine form in the dative case takes the –en ending."

"Ah-okay."

She wanted to ask him then how did the affinitive case fit in with all that, and why did the accusative case have pronouns, and why was German was so _blasting_ difficult.

But she kept quiet; she'd figure it out by herself later. If she even _had _time later. After taking care of Nori, putting up with his dirty diapers and screaming...shopping for dinner, making dinner, eating dinner, feeding dinner, cleaning up dinner, and everything _else _not dinner or Nori-related...

Mari glanced up to see Renji looking at her.

She blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You were scowling," he said pointedly. Mari began to scowl then stopped herself.

"No, I'm not."

"You _were_."

She was about to retaliate with another _no, I was not_, but silenced herself. Rule number three, gosh darn it. Don't let your guard down with petty arguments.

_But he started it. _

_Yeah, well, I'm finishing it_, jeered the little kid's voice inside her head, depressingly proud at that come-back.

"Sorry."

He looked slightly taken aback at that, like he'd expected her to argue, but didn't comment: just pulled out his notebook and wrote in it again.

Maybe the only other class she lacked in was physical education.

It was probably because everyone else was so majestically athletic during the mile: running past the finish line, hair splaying behind them, legs flexed, beads of sweat trickling down their faces, perfect poses illuminated by the golden sun.

It looked like a frickin' _Nike _commercial.

And then there was Hikari Mari at ten minutes, huffing like she'd just smoked a pack. And then all through their warm-ups, which involved moving back and forth across the awful field in high knees, butt kicks, jump skips, and lunges. Her legs burned. It didn't help how no one else seemed affected. And it sure as heck didn't help when she tripped over the door frame on their way out to jog some more.

Renji just watched her and held the door. She was too irritated to feel any embarrassment.

Besides, it was just Renji.

* * *

Often, on the week of a big game, Renji had extra tennis practice and sometimes rescheduled last minute with a quick notice telling her to keep studying.

_Well, if he gave me something to study... _Mari scowled, shook her head, then scowled deeper. _Give yourself something to study. He'd not here to baby you. Do it yourself. _

Her face was pinched when someone walked in. _What in the name did all these words mean? What was all this crap? Renji, help me!_

_Rule number three...rule number three... _

Oh who cared? It was German. It was _Renji_. It was one little question. Not the end of the world.

"Renji, what do they mean here when they say 'the nominative case...'" Mari glanced up. "Oh," she said softly.

It was Yukimura. The boy with the soft hair and the soft eyes and the soft smile that made girls melt like-oh my, what was she even saying.

"I don't think I can help with German," he started, "but Renji asked me to tell you that you're free to leave early, if you'd like. He's in a match presently," he said in a soft voice that matched his _eyes_...

Oh my, she really was losing it.

"Ah-ah-ah...thank you."

She had her eyes fixed on the floor and a curious whiteness about her face. Being good-looking wasn't something Mari looked for in a guy. She wasn't even looking for a guy. (Not that she was into girls, or anything: she didn't have time for boys in her life. Not that there's anything wrong with liking boys-yeah, I should just stop talking now.)

Relationships would barrel into rules one, two, and possibly four, if said relationship included, say, _Yukimura Seiichi_...

Mari hit her shin against the chair leg.

"No problem," he responded nicely. Through the pain in her leg, she felt his smile like an ever-present shadow. "Well, I'll see you," she heard him say before the door closed. The absence of his presence brought her crashing back to earth.

* * *

Yukimura had a very keen eye for people. His team usually held the focus of both of his eyes, but once in a while, his attention would slip, and he'd see something-someone new. Like that Hikari girl.

Niou had pranked her, obviously, that day in the locker rooms, the way his voice dipped down afterwards.

The poor girl. And it surely didn't help that Bunta had no shirt on upon greeting her...but at least she had the decency to cover her eyes, unlike what most of Rikkai's girls would've done at that point (ogle, probably).

He'd seen her in class and around school, and by what little Renji told him about her, she was the sullen kind, rather timid, though extremely observant, given the way she would watch everyone with those lens-like eyes. Sometimes, Yukimura would see her sitting by herself by some lonely wall and feel compelled to offer her a seat.

But something weird kept him back. Even now, as he walked back to his seat with his lunch tray, her eyes would dart up every once in a while then focus back on her fork. As he sat, like she sensed his eyes, her sharp green ones pierced into his, feeling like a breath of ice cold mint before she turned away again.

They were intense, those eyes. They were full of the aura she emitted: a very strong inwardness that made you feel...feel..._weird_. Like you shouldn't bother her because she doesn't want you. Like she was closed in a shell with the key locked deep inside. Like a black hole.

Not _haughty_, like the presence Sanada emitted, nor particularly enigmatic, like himself or Renji: just- well...there really was no better word for it.

It was really weird.

But for a moment, when he entered the room after school, her eyes had seemed less sharp. Sharpness replaced by sensitivity. Then they'd changed back; but just for that second, she'd been open. Free.

Yukimura thought he'd care to see it again. He sat and the animated chatter of Bunta and apologies of Kirihara (for being late, as usual) brought him back to life. He shook his head slightly.

It was really, really weird.


End file.
